


Someone To Talk To

by Higuchimon



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Diversity Writing Challenge, Gen, Isolation, Mind Games, Zexal Flash Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3834175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higuchimon/pseuds/Higuchimon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuuma wants someone to talk to.  There's only one option, however, and he isn't there.  Why isn't he there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone To Talk To

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Title:** Someone To Talk To  
 **Characters:** Vector, Yuuma  
 **Word Count:** 500|| **Status:** One-shot  
 **Genre:** Drama, Angst|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Challenge:** Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, section A, prompt #62, write a third person POV fic, ; Zexal Flash Bingo, prompt #023, punishment  
 **Notes:** Somewhere in the depths of my writing files is a story where Vector abducts Yuuma after Astral's death and plays many mind games with him. This drabble is set in that world.  
 **Summary:** Yuuma wants someone to talk to. There's only one option, however, and he isn't there. Why isn't he there?

* * *

Yuuma once fought the pull of the leash and collar around his neck, keeping himself to the very limits of the length allowed to him. He yelled and screamed whenever Vector arrived, demanding to go home. Every time, Vector gave him the same answer: that he was home now, and there wasn't any reason to fight against it. 

Yuuma refused to listen. Refused to accept it for a single moment. He wanted his friends. He wanted his family. He wanted… 

His heart broke every time he even had a passing thought of Astral. 

He had none of those here. What he had was Vector. Whether he wanted him or not. 

He did not. 

Vector saw to it that he ate and drank, but only when he'd 'earned' it. Yuuma shoved away every memory of what he had to do for that. The words tasted vile on his tongue just to think about. He only did it so he wouldn't starve to death. 

He remembered vividly when he hadn't. Vector hadn't come at all. The rules were simple. Yuuma called him what Vector wanted to be called and Yuuma ate and drank and was even allowed to deal with the aftermath of eating and drinking. 

Yuuma had a feeling that was more because Vector didn't want him messing up his nice clean Tower of Doom and Imprisonment than anything else, but that was something he really didn't want to argue about, just in case Vector proved him wrong. 

It wouldn't be the first time he'd been wrong about Vector, after all. 

In the beginning, his resistance flared bright and hot, scorching and refusing to give in until he knew he had no other choice. Now he lay against the pole he remained chained to, eyes half-closed, somewhat dreaming his time away. He didn't think 'day' was the right word. The Barian World didn't have a sun, at least not one that he'd noticed, and he'd never really seen it getting dark here. 

That meant he didn't know how long he'd been here in the first place. He'd lost track of how many meals he'd had, and they hadn't come on any regular basis anyway. He just knew it felt like a very long time. 

Vector hadn't come for a while. Yuuma wasn't sure of why. He didn't _think_ that he'd done anything to keep him away. As much as he hated it, he'd called Vector anything he wanted to be called to earn his food. Vector didn't ask much more of him than that. Just let him sit here and stew most of the time. 

_Am I being punished for something? Did I do something wrong?_ Yuuma didn't know, had no way of knowing. He let out a long, broken sigh. 

“I wish Vector-sama were here,” he murmured, scarcely aware of the words that passed his lips. He wanted someone to talk to, and there was only Vector _to_ talk to. “I wish he were home.” 

Watching from afar, Vector smiled. 

**The End**


End file.
